Socks
by Sivaroobini Lupin-Black
Summary: When Albus Dumbledore looks into the Mirror of Erised, he does indeed see a pair of thick, woollen socks. But he also sees the giver. Oneshot, Deathly Hallows spoilers!


**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise – unless you count all my merchandise. If I did own the franchise, I'd be re-writing **_**Deathly Hallows **_**so all the people who died would survive. **

**Socks**

Snowflakes drifted past the cracked, rather grimy window, landing on the white-blanketed ground with the softness of a mother's kiss. Lights shone brightly in every house, and strains of Christmas carols floated out of windows. The aroma of roast turkey and Christmas pudding pervaded the air.

One house, however, had a distinct lack of Christmas spirit. There was no snowman in the ill-kept garden, no wreath upon the door. The three inhabitants of the house were not tucking into turnkey lovingly roasted by a mother, or mince pies brought over by an aunt. The only sign of festivity was the small, yet fragrant pine tree in an old pot, festooned with golden bubbles and royal purple tinsel.

_I am not meant for this_, thought seventeen-year-old Albus Dumbledore. He had graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with high hopes of being recognised for his talent, and becoming a world-famous wizard. Multiplying scraps of turkey and Transfiguring pine branches into miniature trees were definitely not what he had had in mind. He was the head of the house now, however, and as such, he had a duty to carry out. With a sigh, he hefted the serving bowl.

"Ariana? Would you like more turkey? Or how about the mashed potatoes?" he asked gently. His younger brother, Aberforth, glared at him for a moment – he knew full well the reason for Albus' many deep sighs and wistful looks – before trying to coax Ariana to eat something more. She shook her head obstinately, pointing towards the pudding and the sideboard. Albus made to get up and fetch it, but Aberforth quelled him with a look and fetched it himself, cutting Ariana the slice that he knew contained the pendant he'd made for her, painstakingly carving it into the likeness of a delicate snowflake. As he stroked the scars on his fingers, created when he'd accidentally pointed his wand at his fingers instead of the piece of metal, he could not help but think that the look of delight on Ariana's face was well worth it.

Later, the two brothers sat by the fire, watching Ariana stroke their fluffy black cat. While Aberforth had a loving smile on his face as he watched the gentleness with which Ariana handled the cat, Albus was frowning as he gazed into the depths of the fire. If only things had not gone awry, at this moment he and Elphias could have been exploring the Osireion in Egypt, or discussing magical theories with the priests of India. He could even have competed in the wizarding tournaments held in Ireland; he would have won, and filled that last empty space on the shelf in his bedroom…

A small pull on the sleeve of his robe brought him back to cruel reality, and he turned to find himself face to face with Ariana. The firelight was reflected in her rich, golden-brown eyes, as shy and as gentle as a doe; it made her beautifully brushed golden hair shine brighter that the Everlasting Ink he'd created. She smiled at him, a gentle, loving smile, and held out a small package. Glad for an excuse to look away from the girl who was his mother in miniature, or from his brother's scrutiny, Albus silently unwrapped the gift and pulled out two misshapen, woolly objects. _Socks_, he realised, pulling them on and wiggling his toes. Considering her refusal to use magic consciously, she must have painstakingly knitted them by hand. Although they weren't pretty, they were warm, comfortable, and slightly too large, just as Albus liked it. He looked up again into those soft brown eyes, and murmured,"Thank you."

A smile broke out over Ariana's face as she hugged him. Albus hugged her back, smiling through suddenly wet eyes. For some reason, the Osireion and the tournaments in Ireland didn't seem that important anymore.


End file.
